"With us, a wife is different from a servant. A wife you love; a servant you maybe don't care much about. If you see me as a potential servant -- "

Darius was stricken. "No! It is this way in my land too! It is that at least I could be with you, if I couldn't marry

you."

She stepped close to him. "How do you really feel about me, Darius?"

"It is my hope that you are suitable, and that you will be willing to -- "

"Forget suitability! What about we?" "I can't forget suitability, because marriage to me would

kill you if -- "

"But you can't go back, so that doesn't matter! All there is, is you and me. So how do you feel?"

That made him pause. She was right; he could not go back. All he could do was remain here until he died. "I can not marry you here either, because -- "

"Nobody asked you to!" she flared. "Will you answer the question!"

He looked at her with an altered appreciation. He had been so girt about by the problems of his isolation and his depen -- dence on her for food and information that he had not allowed himself to think of her as a feeling creature.

She was small, the top of her head reaching just above his shoulder. Her hair was brown, with slight curving, just touching her shoulders. Her face, framed by it, was rounded, except for a slightly pointed chin. Her eyes were large and round and brown. She wore a dress, perhaps in deference to his problem with the blue jeans, and she never sat in that particular position when wearing it. But now she was standing, nicely proportioned, small of chin, breast, waist, and hip but well balanced and extremely feminine.

But appearance was only one aspect of a person. Colene had shown great patience, teaching him her language, and good judgment in the food and clothing she had brought for him, and had been responsible about things like emptying the privy pot. She had wanted him kept out of sight, and though it made him a virtual prisoner here, he felt she was correct in her judgment about this.

She had made it as com -- fortable for him as was feasible. Her personality was nice; she laughed often, and was direct in her dealings with him. She was generous, going to the trouble and discomfort of sharing her warmth with him at night despite the risk of discovery.

Yet still he could not answer, for there was more than all of this in the question.

Feelings were bidirectional things, and if hers were not there, his could not be either. There was one more thing he had to know.

"May I handle you?" he inquired.

"You want to have sex with me?" Now she was guarded.

"I must give that a qualified answer. I do find you desir -- able, but that is not my intent at the moment."